


the whole world in his hands

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Anal Sex, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Today is one of those days; a day where nothing seems to go right. A day where the only thing that can settle Even is Isak, and Isak's touch.Birthday fic for Treehouse!
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 26
Kudos: 214





	the whole world in his hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Treehouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treehouse/gifts).



> Me: I'm gonna write a fluffy short little piece for Modesty's birthday, great  
> Also me: writes.... this
> 
> Hahaha. I don't know if anyone's surprised anymore (least of all me), but here we are.  
> This is for you, my darling dearest fic wife and partner in crime. I hope you have the best birthday and that you like your gift ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Title from Nina Simone, of course.  
> And a big thanks to Immy for beta reading, you're the best. ❤️
> 
> With that said; enjoy!

It’s one of those days today.

One of those days where everything’s just a little off-kilter. Chafing. Not terrible, but not exactly good either. A day that could go either way, up or down, back to normal speed or end up way too fast. 

A day that could end in a good night’s sleep and a morning after that is just like it’s supposed to be. 

Or it could not.

And sometimes, this is almost as exhausting as the highs and lows can be; this indeterminate inbetween where Even stops to second-guess himself every fucking second. Where little things that usually don’t mean anything could be a sign, or they could not, and a sign of what exactly? 

That’s the problem. He just doesn’t know.

Maybe he slept too little, or too much. Maybe he should have eaten better yesterday. Maybe whatever.

What he knows, however, is that this is one of those days where his skin feels a little too tight, where his head aches slightly and where there’s this restlessness in his legs that won’t let him sit still.

Ever since this morning, after Isak kissed him goodbye in bed and left for an early class, he’s waited, hoped that the prickling discomfort would subside.

At first, he’d considered himself lucky for being able to stay home today, having assigned this day to finishing up his examination project. Glad that he wouldn’t be forced to leave the house when he’s like this, be able to take small breaks now and then, a nap on the sofa, an extra long lunch.

Turns out it was the other way around. 

He really could have benefitted from some sort of distraction instead – all day, he’s barely been able to focus, and it’s only gotten worse. 

All this day has resulted in so far is even more post-its strewn across the desk – their loud colors screaming at him in neon, making his head hurt. 

Not even a walk down to the river and back after lunch did the trick – if he thought he’d be exhausted enough to finally get some rest after, he’d fooled himself; instead he’s just more jittery, strung up, his mind jumping from one thought to the next without settling.

On and off, he’d debated calling Isak – not to ask him to come home, but just to hear his voice, let that gentle hoarseness soothe him. 

Thing is, though, Even doesn’t trust himself not to let his frailty bleed through his voice and make Isak come home early.

And Even doesn’t need that, it’s not that bad, really. It’ll be okay, he’ll let Isak finish his lectures like he should and go to the gym like he planned. Even can wait. He’s okay. Pretty much.

It’s just that when he gets like this, when nothing seems to really settle him, there’s only one thing he can think of that certainly will. And it’s got everything to do with Isak.

 _Especially_ with Isak at the gym.

Even looks at the clock again. Half past four. Any minute now, Isak is gonna come through the door, maybe a little longer if he chose to shower at the gym, and – well. 

The thought of _that_ doesn’t exactly make Even calm down, either.

He’s in the middle of sorting the laundry on the bedroom floor when there’s a sound from the hallway. A key turning in the lock, and then the creak of their front door opening.

Finally.

In five quick steps, he’s up and out the bedroom door – the mere sight of Isak pulling the door shut behind him enough to make something settle inside him. 

Not enough, not at all enough, but a little. Enough to tide him over for a little while.

Gym bag slung over his shoulder, Isak’s hair is still a little wet from the shower. His jacket hangs open, tight jeans stretching over his legs as he toes off his shoes and pushes them to the side. There’s a flush on his cheeks and high up on his chest still, and a whiff of soap and shampoo emanates from him as he puts the bag down outside the bathroom door.

Then, he looks up and spots Even.

No matter how much Isak has grown since they first got together; no matter that his jaw is a little broader, his shoulders wider or his whole frame more... sturdy, his smile is exactly the same as at seventeen. Happy and wide, top lip stretching slowly across those gapped teeth, his dimples making him look just as open, as curious and attentive.

And it always makes something fall into place inside Even. No matter what kind of day it might be.

“Hey,” Isak says, chin tilted up as he straightens and takes the few steps forward to close the distance between them. A warm, soft hand on Even’s cheek, and a swift kiss on the lips, stubble scraping Even’s cheek as Isak’s nose brushes against his. “What’s up, baby?”

Another day, Even might have attempted to smile back just as wide, tried to lighten up a little. Would have done his best not to make Isak worry, would have tried to meet Isak with the same happy, carefree smile, because he wouldn’t think Isak worthy of having to face _this_ when he comes home after a long day.

No matter how many times they’ve had this conversation, he still struggles with that kind of honesty sometimes. 

But not today.

“Not much,” he admits with a half-way shrug.

Isak smiles again, puts one hand on his shoulder and strokes down his upper arm, and Even wonders if Isak can see it on him; how he’s been circling the apartment for a good few hours now, not doing much apart from mindlessly waiting for Isak to come home.

He leans into the touch, bites his lip and closes his eyes when Isak kisses his cheek and pulls him in with his other arm.

“You look a little worn,” isak says in a hushed voice and strokes his back.

“Yeah.” Even tilts his head down on his shoulder, and closes his eyes. “It’s – it’s been a day. I’m just – I didn’t start dinner yet. Sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Isak says into his neck, “I had a sandwich before I went to the gym. But you –”

“I’m not hungry,” Even says, maybe a little too fast, because Isak nips at his neck with his thumb and forefinger.

Even presses his nose into the warm, soft skin behind Isak’s ear, nuzzles it further into Isak’s hairline. Nestles his arms around Isak’s back and holds him tighter, feels the steady soft thrum of Isak’s heart against his chest. His strong arm around Even’s shoulders, his hand around his neck.

“What do you want to do then, if you’re not hungry?” Isak asks in a low voice, and Even almost melts into a puddle, then and there on the boarded floor.

Not a day goes by when Even wants to thank someone or something for letting him cross paths with Isak when he did, but at moments like this, he’s so thankful for him that he hardly knows what to do with it, where to place it.

That Isak can take one look at him and know what Even wants and needs. Hear in his voice exactly what he’s thinking, without Even having to say it out loud. How Isak can cut right through all the knots and smokescreens and just lay his hand softly around Even’s messy, twisted insides, knowing how to untie them and set them right.

How Even doesn’t have to explain himself when he can’t – that they don’t have to talk about it, not yet. How Isak can take his weight and let Even fall into him.

And, that Isak knows exactly what Even means when he presses a wet kiss underneath Isak’s ear and whispers, voice a little wobbly, “I want you to take care of me.”

“One of those days?” Isak whispers back, the tender tone to his voice making something warm soothe down Even’s spine. 

There’s still that itch running under his skin, gnawing at the pit of his stomach, but it’s coupled with an anticipation now. More impatient than restless. A kind of whirring trust that Isak will help him sort this out.

Whatever it is.

Even nods, his nose brushing against Isak’s, warm and soft.

“Okay,” Isak says, squeezing Even’s waist with one hand. “Go wait for me in the bedroom, I’m just gonna hang up my towel.”

“Okay.” Even nods again, a tingle of excitement in his stomach as he licks his lips. “How – how do you want me?”

Isak takes his face between his hands, thumbs brushing over Even’s cheeks before he smiles. “Just get naked and lie down on the bed. I’ll take care of the rest, okay?”

“Okay,” Even says again, and watches Isak disappear into the bathroom, lifting his gym bag along with him.

Back in the bedroom, he undresses slowly, much slower than his body’s itching for him to do, before he gets down on the bed and lies down on his back. Listens intently for sounds from the bathroom; can’t wait for Isak to return and put his hands on him, for Isak’s settling touch, his presence. 

He’s quite sure it doesn’t take this long to hang up a towel, but he’s not about to call out and question what Isak is doing. 

It’ll be worth the wait.

He takes a deep breath, tries to focus on the feel of the sheets against his naked back. Tries to ignore the itching in his limbs, the goosebumps rising on his skin from the cool air in the bedroom, and keep still.

The seconds stretch out like hours before Isak finally shows up, stripped down to only briefs and t-shirt. Even can’t help how his eyes are drawn to him, how they follow Isak’s every move as he walks up to the bed and pulls the t-shirt over his head.

Isak’s such a fucking sight like this. 

His toned muscles, abs working as he turns to throw his t-shirt into the hamper in the corner. His still-damp hair curling at the temples, darker at the roots; his long, slender arms. His strong hairy thighs, so much stronger than Even’s own. 

“Hey,” Isak says as he sits down beside Even on the bed. “You good?”

Even nods. 

_Not really. Not yet._

But he will be.

“Good,” Isak says, and then, he smiles again. Puts a hand on Even’s chest, and strokes his thumb along the lower line of his ribcage. Even sees Isak’s eyes dart down his body, down to his long, knobbly legs stretching out to the foot of the bed, up to his crotch and over his stomach and chest.

If it had been anybody else watching Even like this, he might have felt exposed, or vulnerable. On display under someone else’s scrutiny.

But this is Isak, watching him with all the tenderness and desire Even could ever dream about wanting. There’s something else in Isak’s eyes too, something decisive and dark, reassuring. Something that almost makes the thrumming in Even’s limbs diminish. 

Almost.

Even closes his eyes, lets himself focus on the feel of Isak’s warm, smooth palm as it strokes along his side. Down to his hip and up his chest, pausing at a nipple, then continuing along his collarbone. A fingertip at the dip of his throat, long gentle fingers sliding up the side of his neck. Pausing there only for a second until they stroke up his jaw, and Isak’s thumb comes to rest on his lower lip. His hand smells like soap and musk and warm, clean skin as it pulls along the seam of Even’s lips, and Even takes a deep breath, lies still and listens to Isak’s breathing, the rustle of the sheets as he shuffles up the bed a little to sit next to Even’s shoulder.

“Open your mouth,” Isak says. Softly, but in a tone that doesn’t leave room for any argument. 

Even complies without hesitation, lets Isak’s thumb slide in between his lips, and licks at the pad of it. Soothes it with his tongue, and lets it soothe him; lets Isak run it along the edge of his teeth, press down on his tongue and slide up the roof of his mouth. Exploring, as if this is the first time he does this; as if he doesn’t know every little corner and crevice of Even, inside and out.

Isak’s other hand is on its way up Even’s arm, sliding up to his wrist, wrapping it in a firm grip. Not hard or forceful, but assertive, gently pressing it down into the bed and holding it there.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Isak says, thumb still lodged inside Even’s mouth.

Sometimes he wonders if Isak plans these things out beforehand, if he considers what he’s going to do to Even at these occasions when he’s walking to the bus or sitting at the library or when he’s grocery shopping. Or if he just goes with the moment, sees where his fancy takes him and uses Even’s reactions as a guide. 

Even’s considered asking, but then found that he’d rather not know.

It keeps the allure of it stronger, somehow. Not knowing _how_ Isak will do this, just that he will.

He’s almost fully hard already as he wraps his hand around himself, a muffled moan vibrating around Isak’s thumb when he slides his hand up his cock and down again. Isak’s fingers stroke his cheek in reply, palm holding his chin steady while Isak’s other hand keeps his wrist firmly pressed into the mattress. 

There’s something about Isak having his hands on him like this, soft and still unyielding, that makes Even’s whole being tickle with want as well as a sense of safety. He knows Isak would let go immediately if he sensed Even didn’t like this, but that he _could_ hold Even down just as firmly. That, if Isak would really put his weight behind it, he could pin Even down without him having a chance to escape.

Would it have been someone else, Even wouldn’t consider it. 

But with Isak, it feels like a sort of haven. A safe resort. A place where he doesn’t have to think or worry, where Isak will carry it all for him. For a little while.

He lets his arm and jaw go slack under Isak’s hands, lets his own thumb slide over the head of his cock and make it wet. Keeps his grip tight and slow, waits for Isak to tell him where to go next.

Isak’s breathing is steady above him, slow and a little wet; the only other sounds in the room the soft rustle of his own arm against the sheet, the slide of his hand on his cock, the occasional clicking of the radiator by the window.

He feels himself grow in his hand until he’s rock hard and leaking onto his stomach, a tell-tale tingle already building in the pit of his stomach, and it’s almost like Isak can sense it, because suddenly, he grips Even’s jaw firmer and says “Stop.”

Even lets his hand fall down to his side in a heartbeat, lies there and feels the pulse slowly subside in his crotch, slow down to a pace that isn’t exactly calm, but not hurried either. Opens his eyes to see Isak look down at him with a fond expression, one that says that he knows just where Even was half a minute ago, and where he’s at now. 

“You know you can always tell me if it’s too much,” Isak says, voice soft and husky, and Even nods against the hand gripping his jaw, against the thumb still pressing down on his tongue.

He knows.

“Okay,” Isak says again, pulling his thumb out and stroking Even’s shoulder, a quick pinch to Even’s nipple before he lets go of his wrist as well, and rises up to his knees. “Hands above your head.”

Even’s heart quickens in his chest as Isak stands up on the floor beside the bed and shimmies out of his briefs, cock bouncing up against his stomach as it slips free. Eases back with his arms slack against the mattress, and holds his breath as Isak climbs up on top of him, and straddles his hips, watching him with intent. 

Part of Even could lie here all night and just get lost in Isak’s eyes, in the way Isak’s looking at him. There’s a certainty in there, something dark and assertive, something that tells Even that Isak knows exactly what he’s doing, but also something that looks a lot like adoration. That Isak seems to be just as happy to be here as Even is, and it makes him feel almost weightless, floating and falling at the same time. Anchored only by Isak’s weight on top of him, his strong thighs boxing Even’s upper body in.

Isak slides up a little towards him, Even’s cock trapped under his ass, and Even can’t help how his hips lift up of their own accord, just minutely, chasing the zings of pleasure running through him at the stimulation. 

“Lie still, baby,” Isak says, stare fixed on Even’s, chin tilted down, and Evens toes curl from the soft but demanding tone of his voice. 

It’s not easy to keep motionless like this, with Isak sitting on his cock, the warmth of his crack so tantalizingly close to where Even wants him the most, but for Isak, he can do it.

He bites his lip, tries to focus all of his thoughts, all his energy to Isak’s face instead. To Isak’s shoulders, lean but strong, muscles playing underneath the skin as he lifts his arms and puts his hands over Even’s. Intertwines their fingers and presses down, down into the mattress, simple and clear.

And then, he leans forward and kisses Even. 

Deep, open-mouthed and wet, tongue broad and warm, licking into Even’s mouth, slowly but surely. 

It’s strange, in a way – how after all this time, after all the things they’ve done together, kissing Isak is still one of the things that gets Even going quicker than anything else. The feeling of Isak’s lips on his, their wet tongues sliding against each other – it just doesn’t fail to send heat down his spine every time, to make the floor of his stomach clench with anticipation and raw, simple want.

Isak hums into his mouth, licks one last time at Even’s upper lip before he lifts himself up. Puts his weight on their combined hands and looks down at Even, the dip of his upper lip a little swollen and red.

Silently, Isak moves one hand to clasp it around both of Even’s wrists. Isak’s hands aren’t as big as Even’s, but he can still easily hold them in a firm grip while he reaches behind him with his other hand; soft, easy fingertips stroking along Even’s stomach and along the line of his groin, light enough to almost tickle. 

Then, he slides one finger up Even’s cock, all the way from the base and up to the head, and Even has to breathe through pursed lips not to jerk his hips up, looking for more.

The restlessness from before still hovers somewhere underneath, but barely palpable, like only a dull background sound, overshadowed by the much more acute desire for Isak to touch him. All the jittery worry starting to transform into a pulsing, buzzing expectancy – everything in him holding its breath for Isak’s next move. 

Even almost breathes out a ‘please’ before he thinks better of it. Not that he knows exactly what it is he’d beg for. Only that he wants more. 

He doesn’t expect what happens next, though – in a quick move, Isak grabs on to his cock, firm and sudden, holding it still while his other hand is still clasped around Even’s wrists. Eyes fixed on Even’s, Isak licks his lips and slides back so that the head of Even’s cock teases at his rim, and Even inhales deeply. 

The fingers around his wrist grip tighter, and then, there’s a pressure enveloping the head of his cock. Of Isak slowly pressing up against him, letting Even sink inside, and a sudden heat runs through Even as he realizes what took Isak so long in the bathroom. The thought of it, of Isak fingering himself in front of the sink, planning for this, for _him_ – it makes Even’s neck heat up and the soles of his feet start to tingle.

If he’d been asked to guess, this wouldn’t have been what he’d expected – more probably, he’d guessed for Isak to touch him all over, slowly, teasingly, until Even would feel completely desperate. Until he’d whimper and wouldn’t be able to refrain from begging. Or for Isak to fuck him, to hold him down and give it to him hard.

But it’s not like he’s complaining as it is.

Isak feels so tight around him, so perfect and hot – the slide inside not an easy one, but still accommodating, Isak’s fingers finding their way down to Even’s balls, grabbing them lightly and pulling, helping Even’s cock slowly push inside.

And Isak _looks_ – he looks almost otherworldly. Eyes heavy-lidded, half-closed, mouth curling into a part strained, part blissful smile, cheeks flushed and shiny.

Even knows that Isak sometimes acts unaffected by what he does to Even when they’re like this, for Even’s sake. And he also knows that Isak’s going to seem just like that in a short while – but for now, for a few seconds, he can watch Isak giving in to the sensation of Even breaching him, filling him. Revel in how Isak’s unable to keep his composure because of something Even does. Something Even is.

He does his best to lie still, to divert the tension in his lower stomach to his legs and arms, to focus on Isak’s hand clasped around his wrist, to the sound of Isak’s breathing, ragged and quicker than a minute ago. Draws a deep breath as Isak’s hand leaves his crotch and slides up his chest, squeezes at his shoulder and lands in his hair. 

Isak’s gaze has turned steady again, unwavering; one hand around Even’s wrists, pinning him down, the other one curling at the top of his head, pulling at the roots so that his scalp tingles. Not painful, but on the verge of it; just hard enough that Even cannot focus on anything else than how taut his skin is stretched over all the places that they’re touching, hyper aware only of the sensation of Isak holding him in place with his hands and his thighs, squeezing at Even’s sides. 

There’s no room in his head for thoughts of everything that’s been wrong for this whole day, or week, or for months and years – only for how Isak’s surrounding him with all his heat and his strength, inside and out. 

The hand in his hair pulls tighter and then lets go; slides down to Even’s jaw and strokes at the corner of his mouth, and with a pull of his thumb on Even’s lip, Isak finally starts to move.

It’s slow, excruciatingly so; the tight slide in and out already on the verge of what Even can take – too much and too little all at once, a white hot coil tensing up and then unfurling in his lower belly, back and forth. Like this could go either way, go on forever or be over in a minute.

Not that Even expects Isak to end this yet. Not at all.

The knowledge, the surety that it isn’t up to him to decide, that he can just let himself melt into Isak’s tight grip and sturdy, decisive mind – it makes something start to settle in him. Not enough to wash everything away, but enough for him to finally have some kind of steady-state within reach, somewhere he doesn’t have to worry about the next second, or minute, or hour.

Where he can just let himself feel the sparks of pleasure spreading from his crotch and through his stomach and down his thighs. Up his chest and out his arms, to where Isak’s keeping him in place.

The thumb on his lip pulls harder, makes him open his mouth, and suddenly Isak’s mouth is on his again, open and wet and dirty, licking into his mouth in the same pace as he rides Even, Isak’s tongue fucking into his mouth just as Even’s fucking into him.

It’s getting harder and harder to lie still, to not lifts his hips up and slam into Isak; it claws at the base of his spine, sends sparks down to his feet with how much he wants to push it, to have _more,_ and he whines quietly over Isak’s lips.

Feels Isak bite lightly at his lower lip and start to move faster, making the coil in Even’s belly tighten, quickly, until he can feel himself racing upwards and onwards, closing his eyes, feeling the rapid build in the floor of his stomach –

Until, suddenly, it stops.

Isak hovers over him, completely still, the only movement his chest heaving with his breaths, sweaty and blushed. Hands interlaced with Even’s, legs like a tight cage around Even’s middle.

Even knew this was coming, he knew it, and it still takes all of his willpower and concentration to not curse Isak out loud. His crotch is aflame with fire, pulse beating so hard in his stomach that it’s almost painful, the pressure on his cock hovering between delightful and unbearable.

A strangled whimper is all that slips out, making Isak lick his lips and grip Even’s hands tighter.

None of them say anything – the only sounds Even can hear is the insistent, almost violent thump of his own heartbeat in his ears, and he closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, then two. Three.

Slowly, the coil loosens as the acute need of getting off starts to subside. Instead, a tickling feeling runs over his skin – still insistent, but more anticipatory than desperate.

Isak’s hands let up, palms sliding along Even’s arms, down his armpits and over his chest as he sits up, thumbs pausing at Even’s nipples.

“Open your eyes,” Isak says, voice low and insistent. 

The sight Even sees when he does is almost enough to make the desperate itch return – Isak staring down at him, hair in disarray, a few damp strands hanging down over one eye. His strong, sinewy shoulders, tensing up as he strokes up Even’s ribcage. 

“Good,” Isak continues, giving Even’s nipples a slow but firm pinch with both thumbs and forefingers before he slides his palms back up along Even’s arms and up to his hands, intertwining their fingers again. 

Even holds his breath as Isak presses him down into the mattress once more, curls his toes for what he knows will follow: Isak sliding forward and then back, tingles running up and down Even’s cock and out into his lower body.

It’s kind of beyond Even how Isak can move this languidly; how he’s able to control not only Even but himself to this extent. As impatient as Isak can be sometimes, he also has this stubborn, determined trait, and Even can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at the thought that Isak is like this right now because of _him,_ because of what Even needs.

And it’s mesmerizing to watch how Isak’s thighs tense up as he lifts up and sinks down, long muscles playing underneath the sweat-slick skin; how he bites his lower lip with a half-lidded stare, fucking himself on Even’s cock so agonizingly slow that Even’s head spins with it.

He can feel his fingers twitch under Isak’s grip, and a lop-sided grin on Isak’s face tells him that Isak felt it, too. He doesn’t scold Even for it, though – only lifts himself up so that the head of Even’s cock almost slips out. Makes it rest just where Isak is the tightest, at his entrance, squeezing a little, and Even can’t hold back a strangled whine from slipping out. 

It’s just what he needs, and far from enough – Isak moving just minutely, letting just the tip of Even’s cock slide in and almost out, a friction that is as heavenly as it is teasing. 

Isak’s eyes are still fixed on his; a bite to his lip with half-closed eyes, and Even could look at this for every minute of his life. Could live on this edge forever; this weightless void where he can do nothing but exist and let Isak lead the way. Hold his hand and set him right, make everything that’s wrong with Even dissolve and float away on the waves rolling through him, burn up with the zaps of electricity running down his cock and up his spine.

Gradually, Isak’s movements get faster, bigger; more of Even’s cock pushing inside of him with every roll of his hips, and soon, the heat in Even’s crotch starts building again.

For a quick second, he almost thinks Isak’s forgotten – from how his eyes are so heavy-lidded, his mouth hanging open, from his throaty moans – but just as Even can feel the rush of his orgasm approaching, almost there, dangling just within reach, Isak lifts off of him. 

Poised above Even, a steady pressure on his hands, dark eyes boring into his and Even feels so empty, cock throbbing on his lower belly, neglected and leaking. 

“Fuck,” Even breathes helplessly, eyes falling shut while Isak pants above him, thighs trembling along Even’s sides.

His whole skin is tickling, the promised relief gliding farther and farther away with every strained breath. He wants it back and he doesn’t, but can’t do anything but let the desperation subside once again, transforming into that steady buzzing in his limbs, a little more intense now than the last time.

When Isak lets go of his hands and sits back, the tip of Even’s cock nudges against his crack, only lightly, but it’s enough to make Even whine and his hips twitch automatically. Isak cocks his head to the side and shakes it with a tut, hands sliding up Even’s shoulders and down his chest.

“Hey,” Isak says, softly. “Be patient.”

Even wants to huff, wants to snort and remind him how good _Isak_ is with patience sometimes, but it isn’t his part, not now.

Instead, he nods, biting his lip. Watches Isak’s blown pupils, his red cheeks, the dip in his chin. His neck, muscular but slender; the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. The slope of his shoulders, the shadows of the hollows above his collarbones.

“Okay,” Isak says, eventually, hands squeezing Even’s sides and releasing.

It’s not a question, more of a reassurance, a check-in. A reminder that Even can end this here and now if he wants to.

And as much as he just wants the release, wants to grab his own cock and get off quickly and efficiently or maybe flip them over and fuck Isak until they both come, the desire to see where Isak will take this is just as strong. The relief of just breathing, letting go. 

“Breathe,” Isak says, and then slides back, one hand gripping Even’s cock to guide it back inside him. Not as slowly as before, but all the way inside in one continuous, fluid movement, and Even cannot hold back a moan at the heat and pressure. 

Hands gripping the sides of Even’s chest, Isak starts gliding back and forth again. Small, rocking movements of his hips – not near enough to get Even off, but still incredibly pleasurable, rubbing at the base of Even’s cock, sending out small waves of heat.

A lop-sided grin spreads over Isak’s face as he looks down at Even, as if he knows just how close Even is from just this. How much Even gets off on just watching Isak like this, taking his pleasure out of Even’s body while having him under his complete control. 

Isak’s movements are longer, more purposeful now. Decisive, as if Isak has found just the right spot and is determined to make the best use of it.

Even can feel himself pulsing inside Isak, almost ready to fly back up that ridge from just this sensation alone – it won’t take much, can’t take much, not with all the tension and longing that’s been building in him during this whole day.

Once again, the coil starts tightening, much faster this time, heating up until it’s white hot and blazing, and this time Even cannot hold back the upwards jolt of his hips as the promise is finally within reach, so close.

He whines high in his throat as Isak jerks to a stop; cannot help how his hands contract, gripping for some kind of purchase as Isak holds him out to dangle just above the abyss. Isak’s fingers find his nipples quickly this time, pinching them so tightly that Even draws a sharp, startled breath. 

It isn’t really painful, but enough to draw his body’s attention from his crotch, away from where he’s still lodged deep inside Isak.

When his breathing evens out again and he’s composed enough to direct his gaze to Isak’s face, he finds Isak watching him with a look that is both fond as well as a little amused. Slowly, Isak lets go of his nipples, hands stroking down Even’s stomach and up his sides. Down again, and just that simple touch, the soothing, broad caresses, sends a strange kind of warmth through Even. A reassurance that Isak knows exactly what he’s doing. That he’ll catch Even when he falls, here in their bed, as well as anywhere else. 

Maybe this is a weird time to get a lump in his throat; buried deep inside his boyfriend, nipples throbbing a little from where Isak’s been pinching them, but he can’t help it. 

Isak’s just so fucking perfect for him.

“You feel so good inside me, baby,” Isak whispers, fingers counting Even’s ribs up and down and up again. “So fucking good.”

Small, helpless shivers tickle under the soles of Even’s feet as Isak rocks on top him once more; carefully, minutely, mouth forming into a smiling _o_ when he hits just right. With a hoarse, drawn-out exhale, Isak lifts one hand and strokes it over his own chest, and Even doesn’t know how to breathe anymore.

Doesn’t know where to look – at Isak’s hand, fingers rolling his nipple until it whitens; at his face, slack-jawed and flushed; or at his cock, red and hard and standing up against his stomach.

“Fuck, baby,” Isak breathes, biting his lip and moving a little faster, rubbing himself on Even’s cock and panting heavily, and the sight alone is almost enough to push Even into oblivion.

He can only watch as Isak slides his hand down his chest and belly to wrap it around himself; a loose grip, the glistening wet head appearing and disappearing in his fist as he strokes himself slowly.

Even knows that this is partly a show for him, but it’s also evident from Isak’s facial expression, from his slightly erratic movements, that he’s starting to get close as well. And Even’s ready, he’s so ready to come with Isak, to fall over the edge together. Can feel himself rushing towards the finish line from the insistent rocking of Isak’s hips against his, the slide of his rim along the base of his cock, the sight of him getting himself off with Even inside of him, moaning and breathless and wrecked –

And then, again, fucking _again,_ Isak suddenly lifts himself off, making Even’s cock slide out and land with a dull, wet thud on his stomach.

 _“No,”_ Even cries out, helpless – the desperation far too intense for him to keep quiet, hips bucking up fruitlessly against nothing as Isak leans forward and finds his hands, pressing him down into the bed once again, much firmer and harder this time.

His whole body is on full alert, heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing and screaming in his ears, burning in his veins, his skin crawling with the need to come, _now,_ and he’s not sure if he’s going to make it this time, everything in him screaming for release. 

“Please,” he whispers, a needy, whiny sound thin in his throat, and he can feel Isak’s thumbs stroking the sides of his wrists, soothing but not letting go.

“Even,” Isak says, voice breathy and constrained. “Look at me.”

Even means to look up at him directly, he really does, but the strain of holding still, of trying not to break apart into a thousand pieces is making his head too messy, his movements too hard to coordinate. 

“Even,” Isak repeats. “Up here.” 

He swallows and opens his eyes, sees Isak watch him with an gaze that is both soft and cautious. “Okay?”

_Fucking no._

He bites his lip to it – he _wants_ to make this through to the very end, but has to draw a deep breath to try and find the strength, the composure to do so.

Isak’s hands don’t press harder but don’t let up either, and this is one of the things – if Even has to choose – that he loves the most about Isak. That he trusts Even enough to tell him when he’s had it. Let him have the final say.

One deep breath, another, and then, Even nods.

The corners of Isak’s eyes crinkle into a soft smile, and he lets one of Even’s hands go to stroke a lock of hair out of his forehead. Puts his hand on Even’s cheek, and strokes his cheekbone with his thumb. 

Then, to Even’s surprise, Isak climbs off of him completely. Watches Even intently as he sits down on his haunches beside him. 

All Even wants to do is to reach out and touch; run his hands over the smooth skin on Isak’s stomach, along his strong thighs, feel the hairs there tickle at his palms. Wants to take Isak’s hard, shiny red cock in his hand, feel the weight of it, taste it. He feels his fingers twitch with the desire to follow the bumps on Isak’s spine with his index finger, trace them down into his crack and the heat between his legs. 

Isak still has his eyes fixed on Even’s, the look in them as tender and full of promise as it is assertive. Unattainable, and still as familiar to Even as any part of his own body. 

Chin tilted down, Isak lifts a finger and runs it along Even’s collarbone, up the line of his throat, along his jaw. Follows his bottom lip from one side to the other before he slowly pushes two fingers into Even’s mouth, presses down on his tongue just like he did when they started. 

This time, Even can taste both himself and Isak on them; the tangy taste of Isak’s precome, of sweat and sex. Without being asked to he sucks them in, rolls his tongue around them and scrapes them with his teeth, and Isak grabs onto his chin with his hand, tilts his chin down and looks Even straight in the eye.

Watches him in silence for a second, as if he’s debating what he’s going to do with Even, and it makes something dark and primal curl deep in Even’s chest. Something that makes him wish for Isak to crawl inside him and take whatever he wants. Or if it’s Even who wants to do the same to him, and maybe, it doesn’t matter, not really.

After a few seconds, Isak pulls his fingers out of Even’s mouth. Puts his hands on top of his own thighs, and bites his lip.

Then, suddenly, after one long look at Even, Isak turns his body away from him.

Slowly, deliberately, Isak puts his hands down on the bed. Spreads his legs, so that he stands there on his hands and knees.

“Make me come,” Isak says, words dark and short, and Even’s brain shortcuts completely.

The finality to Isak’s tone, the bow of his spine, his intense stare – it makes him scramble to comply. He gets up as quickly as he can, on his knees behind Isak, hands trembling with want and arousal.

He’s not sure exactly what Isak has in mind, if there’s anything specific he wants from Even, but he’s sure of one thing – this is not about him anymore. It’s about Isak, Isak who’s given him a task, something to focus on, to fulfill. 

“Yes,” he replies, lifting one hand to cup one of Isak’s ass cheeks with his hand; thumb resting over his crack, the pad of it catching on Isak’s rim and slipping inside easily. 

“No teasing,” Isak says, curtly, and Even feels the skin on the back of his neck heat up at the silky, warning tone of his voice. 

Now, he’s almost certain what Isak wants him to do.

Without preamble, he puts both of his hands on Isak’s ass cheeks and pulls them to the sides; revealing his red, open hole, slick and shiny at the edges. Feels the tickling from before claw at the base of his spine as he places the head of his cock at Isak’s entrance and starts pushing inside, a smooth tight glide all the way in, making Isak moan loudly and hang his head down between his arms.

“Fuck,” Isak pants out, legs trembling slightly against Even’s, and even from here, Even can see the thin sheen of sweat breaking out over his shoulders. “Do it.”

Even still needs to come, wants it more than anything, but not as desperately as a few minutes ago. Right now, this is about making Isak come, not him – so he does what he knows Isak likes the most – pulls out almost all the way and slams in again, fucks him hard and fast until Isak’s arms give out and his head falls down on the bed beneath him. 

Face turned to the side, mouth open in a silent gasp, wet curls falling over his forehead and over the sheets, shaking a little for every thrust of Even’s hips. 

The sight of him like this, Isak’s ass canted up against him, stretched around his cock, the tight heat around it – Even knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this, but he knows he has to, knows he’s can’t come. Not yet, at least. He bites his lip and pulls back, makes his movements shorter and faster so that he’s angling his cock just right, tries to rub over that spot that will make Isak come as quickly as possible.

He knows he’s doing it right as Isak’s short, constrained moans turn more high-pitched and louder, as he grips the sheets with both hands and knits his eyebrows together.

“Fuck,” Isak breathes again, and Even can see how he’s fighting to keep still, to prevent Even from slipping out of position. “Touch me.”

One hand on Isak’s hip, holding him in place, Even slips the other one down to his front, searching for what he’s wanted to touch all night. Isak’s cock, hard and silky and wet, a perfect fit in his palm, and he makes quick work of it – jerks Isak off as efficiently as he can, tightens his fist and keeps up the minute, fast jabs of his hips. 

It takes less than minute until it pays off – Isak jerking back against him with a quick, breathy shout and clenches around him. Even’s head spins with lust as his hand grabbing Isak’s cock turns wet, wetter, as Isak whines loudly and pushes himself into his hand, fucks himself through it, the slide of his tightening rim along Even’s cock making Even’s field of vision fill up with small white dots.

He curls his toes not to give in and thrust too hard back, to not push himself over the edge. It wouldn’t take more than a few jerks of his hips, everything in him simmering, blood hot with electricity.

His stomach jolts as Isak pulls off from him and rolls over on his back, mouth open and red. Eyes glassy, he stretches out his hands up towards Even and says, in a wet, cracked voice, “Come here”.

Lying down on top of Isak, Even’s skin feels alight in every spot that they’re touching; sparkling with something that’s both discomfort and pleasure. A rolling, unsettling roar that shoots all the way up to the top of his head and down to his toes, making it hard to lie still despite the tacky, sweaty feel of Isak’s skin against his as he moves.

Usually, he’d be able to dissolve this disquiet with a few deep breaths, would calm down from Isak’s hands stroking his arms. 

Maybe it’s the anxiety that’s been building in him all day, or maybe it’s how much he’s missed Isak. Or maybe something he’ll never find out about. Either way, he hides his face in Isak’s neck, feels himself tremble against his side, a muffled whine slipping out of his mouth as Isak kisses his forehead.

“You wanna come, baby?” Isak’s hand strokes his upper back, not dipping lower, keeping its distance.

And maybe, another day, Even would have shaken his head and let Isak help him come down with these soft touches only, without actually getting off. Would have enjoyed the way his senses had been heightened for the rest of the day, calm but giddy with anticipation of the next time Isak would put his hands on him.

But not today. 

Today, he nods quietly into Isak’s shoulder and whispers. “Yes. Please.”

“You don’t have to beg for it, baby,” Isak says in a soft voice, and with a soft press of his lips to Even’s hair, he slips his hand in between them. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Even breathes, unable to say anything else when Isak’s slender, strong fingers wrap around his cock and start stroking it. Gently but firmly, as always, as everything he does to Even always is, and Even turns his face up to let Isak kiss him. Clings onto him, one hand clawing at Isak’s shoulder and the other fisting his hair, Isak’s arm around his upper back, taking his weight. 

When he finally comes, it’s almost like falling off a cliff for real – a jerk in his lower belly pushing him into free fall, vision disappearing in a white and grey buzz, head spinning without any sense of up and down.

Distantly, he registers a hoarse groan that he realizes must come from himself; a hand gripping his shoulder, his hips moving of their own accord, pushing and pushing until every last drop is milked out of him and he hits the bottom, spread out across Isak’s chest, empty and void of thoughts.

And, finally, in his head as well as his limbs: silence.

He has no idea for how long he lies there, Isak’s heartbeat steady against his cheek, his fingers carding through Even’s hair, back and forth.

It’s not until the sweat starts cooling on his back and a shiver runs through him that he grabs the duvet and pulls it up to cover their bodies. Ignores how gross it is; they’re gonna have to change these sheets anyway.

He feels the warmth of Isak’s body envelop him, heating up the air in the cocoon under the covers. That kind of almost overwhelming contentedness that comes with with coming in from a cold winter rain and sinking down into a warm bath, so fulfilling that it’s almost erratic, as if anything can’t feel this good, as if it’s too perfect to be true.

A sensation he isn’t unused to through all these days and months and years since he met Isak. 

Sometimes Even just can’t believe that he’s actually got someone like him. 

He shuffles up Isak’s body so that their faces come level again, nose rubbing against Isak’s as he rests their foreheads together and whispers on his lips. “Thank you.”

“Better?” Isak asks, thumb stroking Even’s neck.

Even smiles. “A lot.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Isak’s fingers scratch at his scalp, making the skin on his neck tingle a little.

Even hesitates for a moment. Thinks of the restless hours pacing the apartment, the discomfort. How distant it feels now, how it might as well have been a week ago. Or more. How none of it really matters anymore, anyway. 

“Later, maybe.”

“Okay.” Isak exhales on his lips and pulls him closer. “Just tell me when.”

“I will.” Even smiles back. Can feel sleep starting to tug at the outskirts of his mind, wanting to pull him under – and he’ll let it. In a little while.

He’s just gonna lie here in Isak’s arms a little longer. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you liked this sap-fest! Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.irazor.tumblr.com)!  
> And happy birthday again, my dear. ❤️


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